


I Know

by megankelly



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-04
Updated: 2012-12-04
Packaged: 2017-11-20 07:11:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/582681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/megankelly/pseuds/megankelly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But once he has time to think about it, she’s sure he’ll say it back because she’s sure he does.</p><p>Well, she’s mostly sure, anyway. </p><p>Because there’s something to them. Something more than being the two hottest people in Beacon Hills—she thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Know

They’re kissing the first time Lydia says it.

“I love you.”

Jackson doesn’t even look at her, just kisses her neck and says, “I know.”

Lydia figures that this is typical teenage guy stuff, to get nervous about it, to be thrown off, and of course Jackson would never let her see him nervous. Of course Jackson would respond back with a cocky statement like, “I know.” But once he has time to think about it, she’s sure he’ll say it back because she’s sure he does.

Well, she’s mostly sure, anyway.

Because there’s something to them. Something more than being the two hottest people in Beacon Hills—she thinks.

So they keep kissing.

\--

The second time Lydia says it is after a lacrosse game. She rushes onto the field, and other people are crowding around Jackson to congratulate him, but he looks for her first, like always.

She throws her arms around his neck and says, “You were great out there.”

And he shrugs like it’s no big thing, but he’s smirking.

“You looked great up there,” he says, gesturing to the bleachers.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to look at me. You’re supposed to keep your eye on the prize.”

“You don’t expect me to believe that’s what you want, do you?”

Lydia smiles. “I might like you looking at me. Just a little.” She starts playing with his hair. “But I also like having a boyfriend who’s the star player and captain of a winning lacrosse team.”

He laughs. “I don’t think that’s changing anytime soon. You should see the team we’re playing next week.”

One of his teammate shouts to him, “You coming to the party tonight? We’re figuring out rides and drink money.”

“Yeah. I’ll be right there,” Jackson shouts over his shoulder.

He turns to Lydia. “Meet you outside the locker room?”

She nods, and then he does something that surprises her. He kisses her on the forehead, which seems too tender and romantic for Jackson, who is known for neither of those qualities. She can tell, by the way he bites his lip after, that he feels a little silly having done it.

He turns away and she grabs his hand quickly.

“I love you.”

He doesn’t say anything. Just blinks and smiles.

“Now go get out of that uniform. You smell disgusting.”

“That’s what winning smells like,” Jackson says.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. To me winning smells more like showers and lavender body wash.”

Jackson rolls his eyes before darting over to a teammate. As she watches him head for the school, she thinks that he might never say it. It’s been long enough since the first time that she’s done some theorizing. Mostly about Jackson being emotionally stunted and the strained relationship with his parents and his avoidance of articulating his feelings. And she thinks he might never say it.

Or at least not for a very, very long time.

But thinking of him kissing her forehead, Lydia isn’t deterred. She’s the first person he looks for after a win. She knows.

\--

Jackson never says it the whole time they’re dating. Lydia lets herself say it sometimes, when the mood strikes. She thinks it’s in her own best interest not to stifle her emotions completely just because her boyfriend is romantically hopeless.

Even though she says it rarely, sometimes it still feels like too much. As if each time admitting it means letting a little bit of her power slip away, into his hands. She wouldn’t loosen her grip on power for just anyone.

But Jackson isn’t just anyone.

And so, after the most terrifying night of her life in which she and all of her friends were almost killed by Derek Hale in the school, she’s saying it again. Because she loves him and she’s scared and he’s been distant all night, he’s been distant the past few days, and he looked at Allison in a way Lydia didn’t like, not at all. Because the whole car ride he hasn’t done so much as hold her hand and they’ve been silent and she hates it. Because even though he’s been so distant and quiet and annoying, he still walks her to her door.

She hesitates, then hugs him, and he’s barely hugging back. “I love you.” It’s one of those pathetic, desperate whispers that Lydia would mock if she heard it from anyone else. She hates herself for it.

He slips out of her hug. “Goodnight, Lydia.”

And he walks away to the Porsche and for the first time she really feels it.

That she’s lost too much power.

And she’s not okay with it.   
\--

Everyone else has left, except Jackson and Lydia. Scott’s mom is on her way so she can check Jackson out and take him to the hospital if necessary. Lydia’s not sure what will happen after that. What customarily happens after you save your ex-boyfriend’s life and he turns from a lizard into a werewolf? How on earth are they supposed explain to Jackson’s parents that—surprise!—their son is actually alive?

Jackson is lying down with his head in Lydia’s lap because he felt a little woozy. She plays absentmindedly with his hair. They’re quiet.

“Lydia,” Jackson says weakly.

“Mhmm?”

“Thanks,” he says. “You saved my life.”

“Just returning a favor. Keep in mind, though, that I’m not responsible for you.”

“I—I’m sorry for that.”

She keeps on petting his hair. “Yeah, for that and what else?” Lydia feels a little bit guilty about extracting an apology from Jackson now, in his weakened state, but she also needs to hear it—no matter how much she loves him.

“Everything. Just everything. The way I treated you in the hall, how I interrogated you about the key. It’s just—everything. I was wrong.”

“Yeah,” she says. “Yeah, you were.”

She continues petting his hair, and his eyes are closed, and he looks so peaceful. “You know,” she says eventually, “it never meant anything when I kissed Scott. It wasn’t about him.”

“I don’t care about Scott.”

Lydia raises her eyebrows, faintly shocked. “But he’s co-captain!” she says dramatically, mimicking his infamous Scott rants the way she and Danny used to behind his back.

“I don’t care about Scott,” he repeats. “Lydia, I…what you said to me? You didn’t just say it because I was dying, did you?”

Lydia rolls her eyes. “Do you think I’m a liar, Jackson?”

“Well…”

“Only some of the time,” she says defensively. Then more calmly: “And no, I wasn’t lying. I wouldn’t lie about that.”

“Good. Because, uh, I’m glad…that you do. I—”

He sits up and she thinks he might say it. Really, this time he might say it. But she doesn’t find herself anticipating it as giddily as she would’ve expected. Maybe because she’s just so relieved he’s there with her, breathing, alive, after everything that’s happened.

He just frowns. “I—”

She grabs his hands. “I know, Jackson. I know. Lie down, alright?”

He smiles a little at her, then does as she says.

\--

They’ve been dating again for a few months. They are back to that Beacon Hills power couple that they once were, though their edges have been softened, just a little. Jackson shows off a little less, and Lydia shows Jackson up a little more, and they take care of each other, because that’s what they need, after all they’ve been through. Someone to take care of them.

Lydia talks Jackson through it when he has a crisis and counts up the lives that could’ve been saved if only he hadn’t been so stupid to ask for the bite—if only someone would’ve just killed him.

Jackson rushes over when Lydia’s suffering from bad dreams or when Lydia’s too scared to even turn out her lights.

But it doesn’t come during any of that.

He says it during something stupid.

They’re bowling. It’s the first time they’ve done that since the double date with Scott and Allison. Both are determined for it to go better this time.

Jackson is sitting. He claps his hands together. “Show me what you’ve got this time, no holding back.”

Lydia shakes her head. “Honey, your self-esteem isn’t ready for this.”

“I can take it. Come on, Lydia. Even if you go all-out, it’s not like you can actually beat me.”

She puts her hand on her hip. “Is that so?”

“I’m great at bowling.”

“So am I!”

“Yeah, well, we’ll see about that.”

Lydia shakes her head, laughing, before picking up her pink bowling ball. “You’re going down, Whittemore.”

He stands where he can watch her—watch her face grow determined as she approaches the lane, watch her perfect bowling form, watch the inevitable strike. She’s beaming when the pins fall, and it takes everything in him not to be beaming back at her.

“Still think you’ve got me beat, Jackson?”

“Of course.”

“Because I can show you how it’s done,” she says. “If you want.”

“Very funny,” Jackson says, before taking his turn.

A strike.

He grins at her.

“Looks like we’re pretty well-matched,” Lydia says. “But we’ll see if you can keep it up.”

She goes for her turn again and Jackson heads to sit down, but then decides against it, sneaking up and wrapping his arms around her from behind.

“No distractions,” Lydia says severely.

“Come on, don’t you miss it a little? Me helping you?”

She laughs. “No. I mean, I always liked this part. The touching part. But I can bowl just fine by myself.”

“Whatever,” Jackson says, sounding stung, but mostly he’s just joking.

“Don’t be a baby and stop delaying your inevitable loss.”

“Sure, that’s what I’m delaying.” He kisses her on the cheek, and he’s not sure why he says it now, but he does, because it’s been bubbling, building all these months, and why not now? “I love you.”

This messes up Lydia’s perfect aim, and the ball goes in the gutter.

She spins to face him, furious. “You did that on purpose!”

He shrugs. “But I wasn’t lying.”

Arms crossed and huffing, she says, “You, Jackson Whittemore, are the sorest loser I’ve ever met in my life.”

“Is that all you have to say to me?”

“Seriously? I only said it about a million times to you unreciprocated. I think you can survive.”

She sits down, and he can tell she’s trying to still look angry but she can’t. There’s this smile pulling at her lips that even Lydia Martin, pro at covering her emotions, can’t control.

And he knows.


End file.
